Whisper Of Things To Come
by TreeHugger
Summary: Legolas must rescue Egla Ash. Sequel to Hope While the Stars Shine. But can stand-alone I hope. No Mary Sue or Slash. We have to stand by our friends no matter who they are.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anybody that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote. It all belongs to him (excepting my own original characters, they are children of my own mind.)  
  
It is best if you have read 'Have Hope While the Stars Shine' though I will try to make this stand-alone.  
  
Thank you again, to everyone who reviewed 'Have Hope…'. I greatly appreciated them and your encouragement meant a lot to me. After a short walk in my own little piece of Mirkwood (which resides in my backyard by the way) I came up with the thought for this one. Some of you asked for a sequel, what happened after, well this is it. Hopefully the words will flow as easily as the last one, though this one will be in segments unlike the last one. I don't know all of it yet so be patient. Thank you. Elenath sila erin le. [Stars shine on you.]  
  
Note * The name Lumbule is a Quenya word for 'shadow'. Also Namarie is Quenya for farewell. I couldn't find anything in Sindarin as suitable.  
  
Let me know what you think. I know that it is short. But it is only the beginning. Namarie.  
  
  
  
A Whisper of Things to Come  
  
"Minuial orthad ned gael manadh  
  
I menel rin ah malthen calad.  
  
Lhoss o bach an tol."  
  
[Dawn rising in pale bliss  
  
The sky crowned with golden light.  
  
A whisper of things to come.]  
  
He sat with his back against the massive trunk of an ancient oak tree that stood alone on a flower strewn hill in the great forest of Mirkwood. The fragile coming of the dawn was lightening the sky, announcing a new day. A smile of pleasure graced his lips, hi blue eyes gazing upward.  
  
Hearon athan peleth. [Fair beyond words.] He thought, watching the sky's colors change and deepen, the stars slowly fading from sight. A joy that still felt new flooded him. "Namarie, fael mirdan o daw." [Farewell, fair jewels of night.] He murmured as he did every morning with the rising of the sun.  
  
His kind felt a deep hatred for the sun, the brightest star over Middle Earth. And he himself felt weakened if he lingered too long beneath its warming rays. But to him it was a beautiful, wondrous thing, as was much that he saw about him. Most of his life had been spent in darkness, living beneath the world in caves of dark stone, hiding in holes to escape the sun's caress and the beauty the world held. It was not by choice that this was his lot, it had been thus since his spawning in the dark caverns and pits beneath Mordor. His kind, the Orcs, abhorred beauty in any form, finding pleasure only in the torment of others, especially in their "brethren"- the Elves. Melkor, the fallen Ainur, had made Orcs as a mockery of the Elves. Captured Elves had been tortured and corrupted becoming the race of Orcs, fallen as their master was. All that was good and fair had been erased by torment and grief.  
  
Or nearly so.  
  
Egla Ash was an exception, the only one that he knew of. The only Orc that had  
  
any Elvish tendencies. These were the things that he had kept hidden from everyone, learning early that it was not acceptable and would eventually cost him his life. So the passion he felt for beauty remained hidden, his differences masked.  
  
All but his eyes. Those he could not hide. Blue. Cursed Elf blue. They alone set him apart, marking him for loneliness and, at times, despair. Like any creature he had yearned for companionship, but he had found his fellow Orcs small consolation. He was too unlike them, his feelings and thoughts too different. Because of this he had been sent from one Company to another, finally coming to Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
There had been fifty Orcs living in the dark hills on the northwestern edge of Mirkwood Forest under the command of an Uruk-Hai, Gorgash. He had been a cruel leader, harsh and unforgiving, despising those under him as weak and foolish. The Uruk- Hai was another strain of Orcs, stronger, taller and no weakness besetting them as they walked in the sunlight. Egla Ash had envied his captain that, to walk untouched beneath the sunlit heavens.  
  
But Gorgash was dead now, felled by a Ranger's swift arrow. Several others had died that night as well beneath the stars. Those not slain by the fierce Rangers had fled back into the caverns, seeking comfort in the blackness of Emyn Mor Esgal, to await the return of their comrades who had gone to escort the supply wagon coming from the northeast. When they had returned it was to find chaos and death. Gorgash and fifteen of their brothers lay dead, arrows riddling their fallen bodies; the others cowering in the dark in fear. And their prisoner – an Elf – escaped.  
  
With no Uruk-Hai to control them fighting broke out and factions were formed. The largest of these followed Lumbule who drove the others away from Emyn Mor Esgal. Most fled Mirkwood, fearing the Rangers would hunt them down. Or perhaps they would fall prey to the Elves' arrows. But Lumbule and the remaining twenty Orcs entrenched themselves more deeply into the dark hills. And as they sat brooding in the darkness and shadows, Lumbule's thoughts turned to the fleeing and the dead. One of their number was not accounted for: the Forsaken One. The one with the cursed Elf eyes. Egla Ash. Where was he?  
  
And unaware of the dark thoughts bent upon him, Egla Ash raised his arms to the coming morning, his voice lifting once again in song:  
  
"Minuial orthad ned gael manadh.  
  
I menel rin ah malthen calad.  
  
Lhoss o bach an tol."  
  
[Dawn rising in pale bliss  
  
The sky crowned with golden light.  
  
A whisper of things to come.] 


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you to those of you who have reviewed this already. I know that it is a little slow starting, but I need to set things up. When I wrote the first story I really didn't think much more about Egla Ash. Your response to him was unexpected. So I am trying to get back into my Orc-Elf mode. This will be posted in sections since it is not nearly all written yet (or even all in my head) though I do know the general direction that it will be heading. Elenath sila erin le. (Star shine on you.)  
  
The game of Tag in this section originated from a similar game of Tag that one of my friends and I had that lasted for such a long time. I hadn't really thought about it in ages, but then it just popped up so I decided to use it. *Sorry, Egla Ash doesn't appear in this chapter, but he will be in the next one.  
  
Whisper of Things to Come Chapter 1  
  
He ran lightly through the towering trees, his feet leaving no signs of his passing on the spill of dead leaves and fallen needles. Birdsong filled the air and the scent of flowers and healthy new growth carried on the light breeze. Deer that were grazing in a nearby clearing, lifted their graceful heads and twitched long velvety ears, but showed no fear at his passage. He glanced back over his shoulder, and then laughed.  
  
"Hurry up, Brethil! This is your last chance today!"  
  
From somewhere far behind him he heard a muffled voice, much too far for this game to be any fun.  
  
"I am here, Brethil." He called, running and leaping easily into the awaiting branches of a nearby tree. "Maer aur, Toss." [Good morning, Maple.] He murmured, stroking its bark as he crouched in its new unfolding green leaves. He sat quite still, humming under his breath. Soon he saw his companion emerge from between the still trees several yards to his left  
  
Brethil lifted his beautiful Elven face, but it was marred by a fierce scowl.  
  
"This is not fair, Legolas." He called, brushing a strand of golden hair from his grey eyes. "Why must I always be "It" for days on end?" He muttered, eyes scanning the forest paths.  
  
This particular game of Tag had taken on a life of its own many months before. After Legolas' return from his imprisonment beneath Emyn Mor Esgal, Brethil and Tavor had decided to find a way to cheer their friend. Brethil had come up behind him one day and gently tapped him on his arm.  
  
"You're "It"!" He announced, and sprinted off laughing.  
  
Soon the three were leading each other on a merry chase, and driving all others insane with their antics. Soon the rule became that you could only get tagged once a day and no re-tagging. But even that became distracting to anyone not involved. Often as a family would sit down to eat, a grinning face would appear in the window and with a quick tap and a "You're "It" vanish into the night. It was especially irritating on hunting forays.  
  
The rules were still writing themselves, but one held true. If one was to race to Beleg Doron the Great Oak and touch it before being tagged then they were considered untouchable the rest of the day.  
  
Brethil, who was less fleet footed than his other two comrades was usually "It" and the evening before he had finally managed to come upon Tavor unawares. But unfortunately for Brethil, Tavor had laid in wait for him that morning and tagged him. That left Legolas. But the prince, being well aware of his predicament had lead Brethil on a wild chase through Mirkwood, working his way to Beleg Doron.  
  
Brethil was beginning to despair. Why had they ever continued this foolish, child's game so long? It had been great fun in the beginning, but was merely tiresome now.  
  
Legolas smiled and reached into a pocket withdrawing a stone nearly the size of his hand. He tossed it into the air and caught it, then lobbed it into the trees opposite. Hearing the noise Brethil gave a cry of relief and headed into the woods again, away from Legolas.  
  
The prince smothered a laugh and dropped silently to the ground and moved down the path.  
  
"I am here, Brethil. What are you doing? Chasing stones?"  
  
Brethil halted, eyes widening, then narrowing again as he realized his mistake.  
  
"Chasing stones? Oh, not again!" Too many times he had fallen prey to that simple ruse. He spun about, hurrying back to the path. Legolas stood several yards behind him, the ground sloped gently upward, the trees receding: the hill of Beleg Doron.  
  
"You must be part Dwarf, Brethil." Legolas chortled. "You're much too slow to be an Elf."  
  
Brethil's fair face reddened. Part Dwarf?! He knew that he could not catch Legolas, but his pride was too wounded not to at least make the attempt. He lunged forward with a growl.  
  
Legolas shook his head, sunlight dancing over his pale hair.  
  
"Very well. Let it be a race to the top." He waited until Brethil was nearly upon him before he turned, jogging up the incline, jesting and laughing. H turned back to grin at his friend, but this proved his undoing. He tripped over a root hidden in the grasses and fell rather ungracefully to his face. A grunt of surprise burst from his lips and before he knew what had befallen him, he felt a tap, none to gentle, on his back.  
  
"You're "It", Legolas. You're "It"!" Brethil's voice was full of merriment and wonder at his luck. He danced toward the giant oak tree singing. He continued to dance about the tree, telling it of his grand victory.  
  
"It wasn't that spectacular." Legolas said dryly, easing to his knees and brushing dirt from his moss green tunic.  
  
Brethil laughed happily.  
  
"You should have seen your face, Legolas. I have never seen you look so surprised."  
  
The prince passed a slim hand through his hair, dislodging pieces of grass and small flowers.  
  
"Well…As long as you're happy."  
  
"If only Tavor had been here to see this. He'll never believe me. Prince Legolas Greenleaf falling on his face."  
  
Legolas stood, brushing at the knees of his leggings. He sighed. Brethil could be so childish at times. He lifted his eyes skyward, thinking that it was time for this silly game to end forever. Hanging amidst the spreading branches of the tree was a small pouch tied with a piece of leather. He smiled.  
  
"Hold, Brethil." He leaped into the tree and retrieved the paper. Straddling the wide branch, feet dangling below him, he hastily upended the pouch. A small piece of parchment fell into his hands. He unrolled it quickly.  
  
"It's from Egla Ash!" He exclaimed, his blue eyes eagerly scanning the letter's contents.  
  
Brethil straightened, his face darkening. He knew that the Orc had saved Legolas' life the year before, but he could not understand the friendship that developed. An Orc! Of all the vile, evil creatures for Legolas to befriend.  
  
"What…What does he say, Legolas?" He managed to ask, trying to keep the disgust he felt from his voice. His cool grey eyes scanned the trees at the bottom of the hill. His fingers itched to reach for his bow and an arrow. He forced them to stillness.  
  
"He is well. He has written another song." Legolas called down to him. "It is about the dawn." He smiled, reading the crudely formed Tengwar letters. "His writing is improving as well. He is truly a wonder, Brethil."  
  
The other Elf merely grunted in reply. He liked not the fact that an Orc made his home here, somewhere nearby. And after what had befallen Legolas at the hands of the vile beings, he couldn't understand his friend's liking for the beast. The Elf prince spent far too much time in its company, singing with it, teaching it to read and write, speaking with it as though they had been the best of friends for years.  
  
"Let us go, Legolas." He called. "I want to tell everyone of my victory." Though now his victory seemed not as joyous.  
  
"Just a moment, Brethil." Legolas dropped to the ground. He trotted down the hill to the west. He and Egla Ash had made a small hollow in the ground, beneath an exposed tree root. Inside a water- proofed pouch was a store of parchment, ink, and quills. He quickly took a piece of the heavy cream- colored paper, and hastily wrote a short message.  
  
Im ath govad mae is sen aduial. Valmet tir i elenath eria.  
  
[I will meet you here this evening. We will watch the stars rise.]  
  
He carefully corked the ink and dried the quill before replacing them. He rolled the parchment, placed it in the pouch, and tied it with the same length of leather. He moved up the hill smiling.  
  
"I am nearly done, Brethil. Soon we can go and you may embarrass me all you wish." He sprang into the oak and deftly secured his response, then landed quietly at Brethil's side once more. "Shall we go? I'd offer to race you, but I'd probably fall on my face again." He smiled at Brethil, but the other merely turned away, his face troubled. "What is it, Brethil? You're mood was so light earlier. Come. Tell me what troubles you."  
  
But Brethil answered him not, his eyes traveling upward to where the pouch hung above his head.  
  
Legolas' eyes followed his, his own spirit dampening.  
  
"He is my friend, Brethil. I will not abandon him any more than I would you."  
  
"It is not right, Legolas, for you – or any Elf – to have such a friend." He snarled the last word, turning his eyes away.  
  
Mirkwood's prince stood silently, his gaze going northwest. Beyond the trees, beyond his sight, lay the dark hills that still haunted his dreams. So what if Egla Ash was an Orc? He had befriended Legolas in his time of greatest need and Legolas would always be grateful for what he had done. He knew how everyone looked down on him for his continuing attachment to the Orc. But one did not abandon their friends merely because others disapproved. What sort of friend would he be if he told Egla Ash to leave Mirkwood, where the Orc was so happy, his soul, so different from his own kind, expanding and growing? His father had bid him do so, but thus far the prince had disregarded this, risking his father's ire.  
  
As if sensing his thoughts Brethil said softly,  
  
"You're father would not be pleased if he knew."  
  
"My father does not know. Nor will I tell him. Nor will you. Please, Brethil. If you are my friend then be silent."  
  
Grey eyes clashed with blue ones. Finally Brethil sighed and dropped his gaze, shrugging slightly.  
  
"Very well. I will not speak of this. But…" He glanced up hesitantly. "You may not…tag me for three days."  
  
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but then smiled and warmly clasped the other's arm.  
  
"Very well. Three days. But then you had best be on your guard."  
  
Brethil laughed slightly, trying to shake off his dark mood.  
  
"Perhaps we should race back. Maybe there will be more tree roots in your future."  
  
The two started off. Legolas gladly let Brethil win, but only by a few feet. Sometimes the price of silence was easily bought. 


	3. Chapter 2

Lumbule had left the cave two days earlier at twilight armed only with a hunting knife, a bow and quiver of black arrows and four of his most faithful followers, leaving strict orders that the others stay deep within Emyn Mor Esgal. He wanted no mishaps this night. It had been nearly one year since the surprise attack on them, when thirty of their number had gone to escort the supply wagon and the rest were nearly all slaughtered by Rangers' arrows. Lumbule had spent many hours pondering why this had happened as he spent his nights hunting through Mirkwood. Gorgash had been a good captain. He had managed to keep order and that was not easy with this rabble, as Lumbule knew only too well now. But things were going to change. Soon.  
  
They crept, silently for Orcs, into Mirkwood making his way down the path toward the east, his thoughts twisted with the joy of revenge.  
  
"Egla Ash." He muttered. "Egla Ash."  
  
The Forsaken One had betrayed them. Betrayed them for the sake of an Elf. This disturbed Lumbule most. Why would an Orc betray his own kind to help an Elf? Hatred surged through him, a snarl splitting his lips, baring yellowed fangs. They would pay for that, Egla Ash and the Elf both. Some time spent in Emyn Mor Esgal would just be the start. The happenings of that past spring night had been reported to his superiors. He was still awaiting word of their counsel.  
  
Lumbule knew that the Orc had made his abode here somewhere in Mirkwood between Emyn Mor Esgal and the Elves' kingdom in the east. There were many miles of woods to cover and as yet he had been unsuccessful. But he was patient – for an Orc. He would find them. And when he did…He laughed, a fell dark sound that assaulted the air about him.  
  
  
  
Egla Ash stood beneath Beleg Doron, his face lifted up to the sky. He could see the stars beginning to glow through the new green leaves of the oak tree. A smile of wonder graced his ugly face, making it beautiful. Almost. The past year had been a time of soul expanding growth. Time spent, not in the dark confines of caves and deep hidden holes, but in the air beneath the trees and stars. He had found a solitary home in Mirkwood near Gael Dor, his "Glimmering Place". As he had told the Rangers, Orcs didn't go there. It was a beautiful spot, a clearing of flower-studded grass ringed by oaks, beeches, and maples. It was a place of deep magic, of this he was certain. And now it was his home. He laughed at this thought: his home.  
  
"Glamog lalaith? Im mista nedh an ol!" [Orc laughter? I stray into a dream!]  
  
Egla Ash turned, his hand straying to his knife.  
  
King Thranduil's people wandered this way on occasion and he knew what would become of him if they should come upon him. He had seen the distrust in their bright eyes as he had journeyed with the Rangers to take Legolas home. Distrust and hatred, almost Orcish in its intensity. He remembered the exclamations of horror and rage at his appearance. But Legolas had stepped between him and the arrows that were leveled at him.  
  
"You will not slay him." The prince had declared. "He is my friend and you will do him no harm."  
  
King Thranduil, tall, noble, and beautiful had ordered his archers away and embraced his returned son. Egla Ash marveled at the love between the father and his child. What does that feel like, he wondered, watching Thranduil's arms engulf Legolas, his warm lips pressed fervently against the younger Elf's fair hair, tears of joy and relief sparkling in his eyes. But there was no joy as those same eyes turned to the Orc. Only hatred simmered there. No. If any of Thranduil's people came upon him unawares it would mean his death just as surely as if he had returned to Emyn Mor Esgal. It was this thought that saddened him, in this most happy time of his life.  
  
But it was no fierce eyed archer that confronted him.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon! Elenath sila erin le!" [Legolas, friend! Stars shine on you!]  
  
"Stars shine on you, mellon. How are you?" Legolas grasped the Orc's arm in greeting.  
  
"I am well. The night is beautiful, is it not?" The Orc looked about himself, willing the happiness to return.  
  
"Yes. Glorious."  
  
The two moved to sit side by side in the fragrant grass. For a while neither spoke, both gazing at the heavens, the soft light of the stars beginning to shine through as darkness fell.  
  
"Gilgalad bain a faen  
  
Talt moe am nin thir.  
  
Aglareb awarth  
  
An panna nin ereb nain."  
  
[Starlight fair and radiant  
  
Falling soft upon my face.  
  
Glorious abandonment  
  
To fill my lonely tears.]  
  
Legolas glanced over at his companion.  
  
"That was beautiful, Egla Ash. But – are you – are you unhappy?"  
  
"Oh, no, Legolas Elvellon. How can I be unhappy when there is so much beauty around me."  
  
"Yet something troubles you, my friend, does it not?"  
  
Egla Ash sighed. He had hoped to mask his dark thoughts. He turned to the Elven prince.  
  
"Legolas, when you look at me – What do you see?"  
  
Legolas' dark brows knit. He shook his head and shrugged.  
  
"I see my friend." He answered simply.  
  
Egla Ash grunted in assent.  
  
"A bad way to phrase that question, I fear." He paused. "How do – How do the other Elves see me?" He finally asked.  
  
Legolas drew a breath, but then found not the words that he would say. He looked away.  
  
Egla Ash nodded slowly.  
  
"It is no different, is it? They still see an Orc."  
  
"I don't know what you mean." But the prince would not meet his eyes.  
  
"Am I beautiful, Legolas? As you are? As your kindred are?"  
  
Legolas looked up at him. He very seldom thought of Egla Ash's appearance any more. It didn't seem to matter. But it did matter to Egla Ash. The Elf studied the Orc.  
  
He was tall and powerfully built, but he was not as large as the Uruk- Hai. His coarse black hair fell past his wide shoulders and was pulled back with a silver clasp that Legolas had given to him. His ears were large, pierced through with silver rings. His skin was swarthy with a greenish cast and rough. His hands were strong and claw like. But his eyes. Blue as a summer's day, gentle and giving.  
  
Legolas smiled and touched the Orc's hideous face.  
  
"You are beautiful to me, mellon. And so you will always be."  
  
Egla Ash was astonished at the honesty in his voice. He smiled, showing crooked fangs.  
  
"Gwend na hae athon i elenath." [Friendship is far beyond the stars.]  
  
Hesitantly he raised his hand and gently touched the Elf's smooth cheek. When he didn't flinch away from the caress Egla Ash thought with wonder, gazing into his friend's blue eyes, that this was love for a friend. His heart ached with the feeling.  
  
"Shall we sing something?" Legolas asked quietly.  
  
"Yes. We shall."  
  
Two voices lifted into the night air, one fair and clear as the stars above. The other was harsh and not lovely, but the blending of them was somehow oddly harmonious, fitting for the serenity of the evening.  
  
  
  
Thranduil had watched his youngest son excuse himself from the feast earlier. He had also seen Brethil's gaze, full of disgust and confusion. The Wood Elf King's slender fingers clenched on the arms of his carved chair. He knew where Legolas was headed and it angered him. He knew the Orc that had come back with him one year ago still dwelt somewhere in Mirkwood.  
  
Why can't it just go south, he thought bitterly, raising a silver goblet of wine to his lips. Its kind resides there in that foul tower of dark sorcery. Let it go there.  
  
The unnaturalness of the relationship between the beast and his son sickened him. He feared that somehow during the days of torture beneath Emyn Mor Esgal something had twisted the prince's thinking. How else to explain this bond. Well. It would end.  
  
He raised a hand to summon one of his guards.  
  
"Bring Brethil to me." He said quietly, his eyes beneath the crown of pale spring flowers dark with purpose.  
  
  
  
Legolas returned about an hour before dawn, humming happily under his breath. He was always amazed by the rapport that he had established with the Orc and he always enjoyed their time together. He knew that the Orc craved company and somehow he would have to try and make the others see Egla Ash for himself and not what his appearance said that he was. As he was hurrying down the flower- lined path he noticed Brethil and another Elf deep in talk. Smiling he started toward them. The other Elf, seeing his approach, left and Brethil turned troubled eyes to the ground.  
  
"Maer aur, Brethil."  
  
"Legolas."  
  
"I said that I wouldn't tag you for three days, my friend." Legolas joked, seeing the others discomfort.  
  
"Nay. I know."  
  
"What is it then? Is something amiss? Has something happened in my absence?"  
  
Brethil sighed, his fingers twining with the ties of his tunic.  
  
"Nay. Nothing is amiss. I…I must go."  
  
Brethil turned to leave, but Legolas' fingers closed about his arm.  
  
"No, Brethil. Something is wrong. You must tell me."  
  
Brethil raised grey eyes that he felt must tell his guilt.  
  
"Legolas…I…I am sorry."  
  
"Sorry for what?" Legolas light mood was departing. A feeling of deep foreboding fell upon him. "What have you done, Brethil? Tell me."  
  
"I…I cannot." Brethil pulled his arm from Legolas' grasp and hurried away. "I truly did not want this to happen. Please understand." He called, his voice desperate.  
  
Legolas frowned and turned away. What had happened? He started to move from the path toward his own home when he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw his father, flanked by several of his guards.  
  
"Legolas, come with me please."  
  
The prince moved toward them slowly.  
  
"What has happened?" He demanded. "Why will no one tell me?"  
  
"It is no concern of yours. Please come with me. It will be over soon."  
  
"What will be – " His eyes widened with sudden understanding. "No! You cannot! Father, how could you!" He turned, ready to fly back into the woods, but more guards stood blocking his way, swords drawn. Legolas could not believe his eyes.  
  
"This is for the best, my son." Thranduil said quietly. "Truly it is. Come with me and soon you will forget all of this."  
  
Legolas rounded on his father, fury in his eyes.  
  
"No. I will not. You cannot do this to him. You do not know what he is like. You never even tried to understand him." He turned suddenly and rushed at the guards.  
  
Strong hands grabbed him, not ungently, and held him fast.  
  
"Father, please! Don't do this. Let me go to him."  
  
Thranduil looked at his son, his eyes filled with pain. He shook his head.  
  
"I am sorry, Legolas." He turned to the men that held him. "Take him into the palace and keep him there until I tell you."  
  
"No!"  
  
Legolas struggled with his captors, but to no avail. There were too many.  
  
"Egla Ash! Egla Ash! Run!" He screamed, feeling tears of anger and helplessness spill from his eyes. "Run!" 


	4. Chapter 3

To everyone who reviewed this thus far: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I guess that it its true that reviews help you write more quickly. I had hit a slight rut (looking at maps and reading up on things in Middle Earth that I am not too conversant with (upcoming), but am studying them to try and get it right. Thank you again.  
  
Elenath sila erin le! [Stars shine on you!]  
  
  
  
Egla Ash had tarried for a few moments after Legolas' departure. The air was warm and gentle, tempting him to linger beneath the oak tree. He closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips, his feelings of discontent faded as he contemplated his friendship with the Elf. He didn't see the three Elven archers that moved silently up the hill behind him, arrows ready.  
  
"Gwanath tol an le, Orch!" [Death comes to you, Orc!]  
  
He spun toward the unfamiliar voice, moving to his feet. So it was as he had feared. He saw the hatred shining in their beautiful eyes, but also something akin to the emotion he had seen in his fellow Orcs' eyes when they were about to kill an Elf: satisfaction. He would not make a move to defend himself, not against them, Legolas' kin. He had stood by silently, cursing his own weakness and fear, as the Elves had died screaming, bond to Mor Sarn, the vile black post beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Legolas was the only one that he had saved. He grieved that their friendship had been so short, but it had been a wondrous time. Even if it must end this way. He knew that the Elf would mourn his passing and that was a comfort.  
  
"Namarie, Legolas Elvellon." He whispered, trusting that the tree would tell his friend of his final words.  
  
He stood tall, hands at his sides as the first arrow slammed into him. He glanced down at it, seeing that it was slender, pale and fletched with beautiful feathers, much like the arrows that Legolas carried. The second arrow hit him and then something happened that sent shudders of horror through him.  
  
One of the Elves cried out in pain and astonishment, his eyes on the long black arrow that pierced his chest. More black arrows filled the air. The Elves, wounded, staggered away; crying out for help that they knew was not coming.  
  
Egla Ash dropped to his knees, his black blood seeping to the ground beneath the fair oak tree.  
  
"Get up, Forsaken One. You are coming with us."  
  
He was pulled roughly to his feet, his eyes filled with shock and fear.  
  
Lumbule smiled.  
  
"Didn't think to see us again, did you?" He rasped. He yanked the arrows from Egla Ash's body and smeared the thick black salve that Orcs favored over the wounds and bound them quickly. "Can't have you dying yet, can we?" He bound Egla Ash's wrists with black rope, the sharp metal cutting into even his rough skin.  
  
"What about them?" One of the other Orcs called, gesturing after the fleeing Elves.  
  
"Not now. None of them are the one we want. Let us go before they return in force."  
  
Stumbling in numb horror, he glanced back up the hill. The sky was paling in the east. Dawn was approaching. But this morning he found no joy in it. He was going back to the darkness, back to Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
  
  
Legolas had allowed the guards to lead him away, becoming still and placid in their grasp. Relief filled them. The moment had been very awkward and they wished no ill to their prince, but something had to be done about the Orc. The moment that he sensed that their vigilance had dropped, Legolas pulled away and sprinted into the woods. One of the younger Elves started to follow, but the commander shook his head.  
  
"It doesn't matter any more, Lasbelin. It will be all over by now."  
  
Legolas turned west running harder than he had in a long time. He kept the feeling of panic and fear in check, trying not to think of what he would find when he arrived at Beleg Doron.  
  
"Please don't let him die." He panted. "Not this way." His renewed anger gave him speed. But soon he met with a sight that chilled him. He saw the three archers staggering toward him, blood staining the bandages hastily wrapped about their wounds.  
  
"Prince Legolas, don't go up there! The Orcs attacked us! Come away!"  
  
He slowed and moved to meet them. He stared at their wounds in horror.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
"The Orcs rescued him, Legolas." One of the archers replied sternly, supporting the one who was most injured. His fair face was flushed with anger, his eyes hard as he stared at his prince. "I guess some of us do not know how to judge who our true friends are."  
  
"I don't believe this. They would not rescue him. They would-" He gasped. "Will you be alright?" He asked them, torn between wanting to aid them and the greater cry of his heart – to find Egla Ash.  
  
"Yes, my prince." The tallest archer replied, his voice hard and full of anger. "We will do well without you."  
  
Legolas met the others eyes briefly, and then he turned and ran deeper into the forest. His heart pounded with dread. Orcs had taken Egla Ash. He could imagine only too well what torments they would inflict upon him. To them he was the worst kind of traitor. He feared greatly for his friend.  
  
  
  
  
  
Don't let me be too late, he thought, relief flooding him when at last the oaks' hill came into view. His steps slowed and he reached for his bow and an arrow. He crept silently up the path. The wood was still, the birds' songs muted. He crouched low and eased behind a tree. Drawing a breath he peered into the clearing surrounding the oak. It was empty.  
  
"No." He breathed, though he was not surprised he knew he was nearly an hour behind them. Carefully he made his way to Beleg Doron, his eyes scanning the trees below.  
  
The giant oak stood silent and tall, its leaves lit by the new sun. Legolas knelt touching the dark blood on the grass. He felt pain lance through him. He wouldn't let this happen. He stood and studied the trodden grass. The Orcs' trail was clear. They were heading northwest. He knew where they were going. He glanced back the way the other Elves had taken. His father would know where he was and perhaps he might even know what he was about to do. It didn't matter. Picking up the arrows that been pulled from Egla Ash, beautiful Elvish arrows, he shoved them into his quiver. He moved down the hill following the Orcs' trail.  
  
  
  
They had bound Egla Ash's mouth, the rough material foul tasting and biting into his skin. When he had realized what Lumbule had planned he had begun to struggle and call out to Legolas. But to no avail. One of the Orcs had gone back, paralleling the trail, a hideous grin on its face, its bow grasped firmly in one hand.  
  
No, he thought, misery filling him as he stumbled along behind Lumbule and the other two Orcs. He cannot kill Legolas. But then the realization hit him. No, they would not kill him. They would imprison him again. This time there would be no escape.  
  
"Lousy traitor!" One of the Orcs snarled, kicking him viciously, causing him to fall.  
  
"Stop it, Lorgat. Leave him until later. He'll pay for everything he's done to us."  
  
Lumbule pulled him to his feet and backhanded him.  
  
"Soon." He hissed into Egla Ash's face. "Soon he'll be sorry that he ever helped that Elf."  
  
Egla Ash wondered vaguely how long he could withstand the torture that awaited. But it was only a distant fear. The greater fear was for Legolas. He knew that his friend would come after him and he knew that if he did they would capture him as well.  
  
The trees and flowers that had once captivated him so slipped by unnoticed beneath the careless feet of the running Orcs. The sun overhead was soon going to force them to stop, but Lumbule showed no signs of tiring yet so on they continued. By tomorrow night he knew that they would be nearing Emyn Mor Esgal. He continued on blindly, not caring for what was to come. He only hoped that Legolas would be careful and safe.  
  
Please don't follow me, my friend, he thought desperately. Stay away.  
  
"He'll come for you," Lumbule barked, a grin on his face, seeing the way Egla Ash strained to look behind them. "If he is your friend as you seem to think. You do not know how it sickened us to see the two of you singing together."  
  
The others laughed cruelly.  
  
"We could have taken you then, but I like the odds better this way. Move out!"  
  
They trotted forward, the sun moving slowly up into the sky. Egla Ash found that he could not remember the words of the song he had made about the dawn. Despair washed over him. There would be no escape.  
  
Elbereth, he thought, wondering if he could call upon the Ainu most beloved by the Elves. Dartha ah enni. [Stay with me.]  
  
Perhaps she might hear one of her fallen children.  
  
  
  
Dalblung, the Orc sent back to await Legolas, was crouched behind the wide girth of a pine tree, his bow held loosely in his hands. Excitement coursed through him. His orders had been very clear: wound the Elf enough to disable him and then bring him to Emyn Mor Esgal. Easily done. And he would enjoy it. He chuckled delightedly, bouncing on his haunches slightly.  
  
After some time he became aware of the Elf, trotting lightly down the forest path his eyes intent on the obvious trail. The determination on his face, gave the Orc slight pause, but he grinned and lifted the black bow.  
  
If Legolas hadn't been concentrating so intently on the broken ground before him he would have been aware of his danger, but it wasn't until he heard the bowstring sing that he realized how much his guard had dropped. The black arrow sank into this thigh, but even as he recoiled under the blow, his own arrow was flying at the Orc. Unfortunately for Dalblung he had sprung from his hiding place to soon. He fell, the Elvish arrow piercing him through his forehead.  
  
Legolas' head jerked about, waiting for another attack. When none came and he sensed nothing, he grasped the arrow and pulled it from his thigh. He threw it to the ground in disgust and taking one of his knives deftly cut a length of cloth from his under tunic. He wrapped it tightly about the wound, feeling the warm blood flowing down his leg. Grimly he cleaned the fell arrow and placed it in his quiver and retrieved the arrow from Dalblung. Ignoring the pain he started after the remaining Orcs.  
  
  
  
He stopped once, quickly gathering herbs. He hated to lose the precious moments, but knew that his wound needed tending. He would be of little use to Egla Ash if he were lame or ill of poison.  
  
Orc arrow tips were usually poisoned and the Elves knew the herbs needed to combat this.  
  
He carefully unwound his makeshift bandage. It had stuck to the dried blood and he eased it off. Fresh blood erupted and he hurriedly staunched its flow. As he carefully chewed the leaves then packed them in the wound he knew that he would have to hurry when leaving here. If the Orcs reached Emyn Mor Esgal he would never be able to free his friend. Not alone. And he knew no one among the Elves would help him. So he had to catch them before they reached the dark hills.  
  
He tied the bandage tightly and stood, grimacing as pain shot through him. But he bent and retrieved his bow and jogged off into the trees. 


	5. Chapter 4

I know that this is super short, but here it is. I should have put it on the end of the last chapter, but I have just finished this. Now I will have to leave you hanging for a time so I can work on the next section (Hopefully in a few days). Elenath sila erin le!  
  
Egla Ash dropped to his knees, exhaustion eating through him. Lumbule had pushed them hard and soon they would reach the edge of Mirkwood Forest. They were near Gael Dor, his beautiful Glimmering Place. He glanced south, imagining his home as it must look now in the growing twilight of his second day of captivity. He closed his eyes calling up the scents of sun warmed grass and elusive flowers, the evening calls of the birds as they spoke sleepily to one another.  
  
"Aewen aerlinn danna o menel  
  
An lutha nin lhewig ah taur gell."  
  
[Birds' song falls from heaven  
  
To enchant my ear with sublime joy.]  
  
He smiled, breathing in the scents of Mirkwood at dusk.  
  
"Shut up, traitor!" The Orc called Snagar growled, striking at Egla Ash with his foot. "Dirty Elf language! Why doesn't your tongue burn with it!" He spat curses in the Black Speech.  
  
Egla Ash stifled a moan. They were nearly there. His blue eyes lifted to the sky. The first stars of the night were appearing.  
  
"Aronoded aglar." [Endless glory.]  
  
Could he live without the stars?  
  
He lowered his head as Lumbule strode toward him bearing a flask. He thrust it into Egla Ash's mouth, the liquid fire burned down his throat, giving him strength to continue.  
  
"Dalblung and that Elf are sure slow about getting here." Snagar said, glancing back in the direction they had come from.  
  
"He'll be here, have no doubt. Now let's move."  
  
Egla Ash was yanked to his feet once more and they trotted on heading northwest.  
  
Where was Legolas? Could Dalblung truly have captured him single handedly? Egla Ash doubted it. But if Legolas was free, where was he? Or was he perhaps dead?  
  
He shook his head to free it from such thoughts of despair. No, he smiled to himself. I will have hope, though I might feel no hope. The stars are still shining.  
  
Gar estel annan i elenth sila. [Have hope as long as the stars shine.]  
  
  
  
Legolas had caught up with the Orcs soon after they had begun to move again. He could smell them and hear their vile speech and jests as they ran ever on toward Emyn Mor Esgal. He dashed silently into the woods running along side them, easing ahead of them. He knew a place where he could come on them unawares and he soon left them behind. He had dared a glimpse at his friend. Egla Ash looked tired, but fit enough. This heartened the Elf. But just as his thoughts had turned to relief a sound filled the woods, echoing on the floor of the forest. His heart nearly stopped. His steps faltered and he barely had time to dive to the forest floor beneath a fallen tree when a group of Orcs came running through the woods.  
  
There were about twenty of them, their eyes glowing in the darkening night, as they ran. They were each heavily armed and some carried sacks containing supplies for a long journey. Legolas stared at them in consternation and growing unease. What was happening? After the group had passed, he crept from behind the tree and followed them at a discreet distance. It would not do for that many Orcs to become aware of him.  
  
He didn't have to follow them far. They had met up with the smaller group heading north.  
  
  
  
"Lumbule! We have news from the Shriekers. We are to go south."  
  
Lumbule stared at the speaker, an evil grin spreading over his face and Legolas, who was crouched many feet away, shuddered. Who were the Shriekers?  
  
"South?" Lumbule queried, turning to stare at Egla Ash, who was looking at them, horror on his face. "Did they say why?"  
  
The Orc shrugged and looked at the traitor Orc, his own face hideous with delight.  
  
"They are very interested in this one. Perhaps they wish to make an Orc of him yet."  
  
Foul laughter filled the air of Mirkwood and its prince crouched lower still, his fingers digging into the rich soil of the earth beneath him. He shook his head, numb with disbelief and distress. What was he to do now?  
  
"Let us move out then. Leave someone here to tell Dalblung of our change of plans." Lumbule turned to Egla Ash. "Well," he drawled. " You have escaped our punishment, but I think that perhaps this is better than any of our devices. Let's move!" He called, his shrill voice assaulting the very air. "To Dol Guldur." 


	6. Part II Chapter 1

I am apologizing now for any errors made in the way of Dol Guldur. I have looked it up in the books (LOTR, Silmarillion) and in the Complete Guide to Middle Earth. The snippets I have found have been helpful, but it was not touched on much. So my own imagination has had to fill things in.  
  
Part II  
  
In days of old the forest was called Greenwood the Great. It was the largest of Middle Earth's woods and fair. The cool shade beneath its trees was filled with birdsong and the footfall of the beasts that dwelt there. In the northeastern corner was the realm of King Thranduil. There under oak and beech dwelt the Wood Elves. Tall and fair they were, their voices merry and filled with songs.  
  
But then a darkness crept into the wood from the southwest and walked beneath the trees, haunting the shadows and with it came evil creatures, fell and dark. The sunlight was choked, shadows grew and fear fell upon the inhabitants and they fled north. Dark trees sprang up, striving with one another, branches rotting and withering in the struggle. And in the midst on a stony height rose a foul fortress of dark stone made by sorcery. And all felt the fear of the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur.  
  
The forest then became known as Mirkwood and even the Elves would not venture south.  
  
  
  
"We don't go that way." Legolas murmured quietly as the Orcs disappeared from sight, his dark brows knitting, a look of despair coming over his fair countenance. What was he to do? He could not leave Egla Ash to that fate. But what could he do alone against that many Orcs? If he were taken to Dol Guldur what would they do to him? Indecision bit at him.  
  
He watched as the Orc that had been left behind sat down on a fallen moss covered log to await Dalblung, who lay dead many miles back. Legolas readied his bow then stepped from concealment. The Orc looked up in surprise. He pulled his own weapon, a curved wicked looking scimitar and rushed at the lone Elf. The arrow flew and the Orc lay dead, its eye pierced through.  
  
Wearily Legolas looked toward the east, toward his home and safety. But then he turned south toward Dol Guldur. Only peril and death awaited in those southern reaches of Mirkwood. But then the words of Egla Ash's first song came to his mind, the song he had written for Legolas when he was imprisoned beneath Emyn Mor Esgal.  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.  
  
Ind mor lothron garo le  
  
Gil galad sila godref.  
  
Arad o nin or.  
  
Estel na tol."  
  
[Have hope as long as the stars shine.  
  
Though darkness may hold you  
  
A star's light will shine through.  
  
Days of fear will soon be over.  
  
Hope is coming.]  
  
Legolas closed his eyes, head lowered. No. He could not return home. Egla Ash needed him and he would find a way to help him. Even if it merely meant a swift death by a flying arrow before he himself was overwhelmed.  
  
Overhead the stars twinkled in the dark sky. As he gazed lovingly upon them a new sense of determination filled him. He breathed deeply and slung his bow around his back. He would do what he could, no matter the dangers ahead or the risk to himself.  
  
"Im ath tol, nin mellon." [I will come, my friend.] He whispered to the night and the trees. "Gar estel." [Have hope.]  
  
  
  
Egla Ash was kept in the midst of the company of Orcs. They were taking no chances now that the Shriekers were involved. Mile after mile they ran into the night. They had passed the way to Gael Dor some time back. He had glanced in its direction, thinking happily of the place he called his home. As he gazed he thought that he saw a small glimmer of light coming from the clearing. He had silently called farewell to it in Elvish. "Namarie, nin Gael Dor. Im ath gar le ned rin." [Farewell, my Glimmering Place. I will hold you in remembrance.]  
  
"Gwelu lend a laeg  
  
Cell godref i fin.  
  
Lameth can o erin brand  
  
Gliri nin nain an i ross."  
  
[Air sweet and fresh  
  
Flowing through the trees.  
  
Voices calling from on high  
  
Recite my tears to the rain.]  
  
Fear coursed through him as he contemplated what was going to happen to him in Dol Guldur.  
  
"Perhaps they wish to make an Orc of him yet."  
  
The words kept running through his brain with a fevered intensity. They were going to torment him until he became what he had been spawned to be. There could be no crueler punishment. To do away with his love of beauty and replace it with hatred and contempt. He shuddered, his footsteps faltering. Better death after long torment than this.  
  
A whip snaked out behind him, striking him painfully across his back.  
  
"Keep it moving, sluggard! Or I'll encourage you again."  
  
Shoves and kicks were aimed at him. He struggled onward. It would be many days before they reached the dark tower on the hill. He raised his eyes to the sky. The stars, diamond bright, were peering amidst the branches of the trees. His fears eased slightly as the glistening points of light filled his vision.  
  
"I will take them with me into the darkness. I will not forget. I will not forget, Legolas Elvellon." He thought, a small smile on his lips. Inside his tunic, against his heart, was a brooch of silver and green in the shape of an oak leaf. It was the same one that he had shown to the Rangers that fateful night one year ago. It had belonged to Legolas and Egla Ash had kept it safe for him during his time of imprisonment. Legolas had given it to him after the Rangers had helped to rescue him. He had kept it with him always. It would go with him into the darkness that awaited him.  
  
"I will not forget."  
  
  
  
Legolas followed the Orcs, his heart remaining true to his mission. His feet traveled the familiar path south. Soon they would pass Egla Ash's home. He had come this way many times in happier days. He found himself turning aside for a moment, hoping that perhaps Egla Ash had escaped and managed to make it to Gael Dor. And if not the trail was clear enough. He would follow them to the end.  
  
As he neared the clearing he noticed the small glimmer of light coming from its center. His heart leapt with hope. If only it could be…  
  
He hurried toward the clearing, taking his white knife into one slim hand. He moved cautiously into the trees that surrounded Gael Dor.  
  
It was not Egla Ash that sat in the middle of his clearing. But the sight that met Legolas' eyes was one almost as joyous.  
  
"Estel!"  
  
The man crouched beside the fire stood and moved to meet the Elf's embrace.  
  
"How are you, Prince Legolas?"  
  
"I am well. And you, my friend?"  
  
Dunadan smiled and held the Elf at arms' length.  
  
"You look troubled. Is all well at your father's kingdom?"  
  
Legolas dropped his gaze and wouldn't meet the cool blue eyes.  
  
"All is well."  
  
Dunadan didn't question but lead the Elf to the small fire he had kindled.  
  
"What happened to your leg? Was it the group of Orcs that I saw passing earlier?" The man's deft hands began to unwind the ragged bandage.  
  
"They have taken him, Estel. They have taken Egla Ash." Legolas voice was low and urgent as gentle fingers searched his wound. It was healing well, but the Ranger moved to his pack to make a poultice to use on it.  
  
"Who? Those Orcs?" A scowl touched his rugged face. "When?"  
  
"A few days hence. I have been following them. If I had been faster I would have saved him ere they met up with the larger group. They are taking him to Dol Guldur, Estel. You know what that means."  
  
Dunadan stared at the blue eyes of his friend. They were filled with pain and discouragement.  
  
"Dol Guldur?" He murmured, his eyes straying to the stars. "Are you certain?"  
  
"Yes. I heard them speaking earlier. They said that they had news from the Shriekers. And that they were to go south."  
  
"The Shriekers?" The Ranger's eyes grew troubled as he spilled crushed athelas leaves into the boiling water. "They said Shriekers?"  
  
"Yes. What does that mean, Estel?"  
  
Dunadan stood his eyes on the night, a distant look clouding his face.  
  
"Shriekers." He murmured. Then he seemed to shake himself. "Nazgul. Sometimes the Orcs call them Shriekers. So it is as we had feared. Nazgul occupy Dol Guldur."  
  
"Nazgul." Legolas couldn't suppress the shudder that rippled through his body. A feeling of deep foreboding filled his mind: the stir of greater things that had not yet come to fruition. "I cannot let this happen to him, Estel. I have to go after him."  
  
"Alone?" He scooped the soaked leaves from the small pot, placing them in a bandage.  
  
"He is my friend. And I am alone in this." He wouldn't speak of what had almost befallen the Orc at the hands of the Elves at Beleg Doron. "I fear what they will do to him."  
  
Dunadan nodded. He knew only one reason they would take the Orc to the dark tower. He would die there or be transformed into something that they would loath. He nodded, moving to kneel by the Elf once more. Legolas hissed through his teeth as the hot leaves came in contact with his skin. The Ranger carefully wound the bandage about his thigh.  
  
"I was traveling to visit you and Egla Ash after I left Lorien. Though this was not how I envisioned our meeting." He stood and moved to check his weapons that lay nearby, ever ready. "Well. I guess that we will be traveling south. Though this about the Nazgul is disturbing, but not necessarily unlooked for."  
  
"You will accompany me?" Legolas rose to his feet, relief showing plainly on his fair face.  
  
"Of course." He began to pack the few things that lay scattered near the fire. "What are friends for. We will not leave him to the torment that awaits him there."  
  
A few minutes later Gael Dor was empty, the only sign that anyone had passed that way was the small ring of ash on the forest floor. 


	7. Part II Chapter 2

For days the Ranger and the Elf followed the Orcs. They stopped seldom and then only to rest and eat a hurried meal. Dunadan wasn't certain how they could possibly rescue Egla Ash when the hoard of Orcs surrounded him the entire time. He feared that the only escape for the Orc would be a swift arrow in the heart. He didn't like to contemplate this, but the thought was ever present in the back of his mind. He glanced over at his companion. The Elf's beautiful face was taut with worry, the blue eyes grim, but determined.  
  
I hope to have such friends as this on the road I soon must travel, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. His Rangers were such friends, fiercely loyal and devoted. He had given them leave to visit family and friends and then join him later at Rivendell. He himself had traveled to Lorien, there to speak with the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. He had meet also with someone not looked for. A smile touched lips and rested in his eyes as he ran south with Legolas.  
  
"Arwen." He breathed, calling to mind the image of how she had looked as they had stood locked in one another's embrace atop Cerin Amroth, the emerald grass beneath their feet studded with elanor and niphredil. There under the Midsummer stars they had plighted their troth. Their happiness had been overwhelming. They had spoken briefly of the Shadow that was even now stretching across the land. And they spoke of the choice that the Evenstar must make. His heart burned with the love he felt for her. At times it made him feel as if he would burst asunder, so strong it was. His hands still felt the silken weight of her dark hair, netted with jewels like stars; its scent was intoxicating against his cheek.  
  
"Arwen. Im mel le, nin Undomiel." [Arwen. I love you, my Evenstar.]  
  
Their footfalls were muffled as they ran swiftly toward the south.  
  
Legolas' own thoughts weren't as light and carefree. He berated himself for his slowness. The matter of mere minutes had turned the tide against them. If only he had come sooner upon the small escort Egla Ash would be free, not surrounded by his captors being lead away to a vile fate.  
  
I cannot allow him to suffer this, he thought solemnly. But like the Ranger at his side he saw no hope of rescuing the Orc alive. This grieved him and it tore at his heart. But he would do what he must. He knew Egla Ash would rather die than become like his debased brethren. The arrow would fly if it must.  
  
He recalled a song that Egla Ash had once made up.  
  
"Revia nin celeg min  
  
Gliri ned i gwelu.  
  
Tog i ruien dad."  
  
[Fly my swift one  
  
Sing in the air.  
  
Bring the hunted down.]  
  
Legolas had laughed with delight and amusement.  
  
"Even I don't sing to my arrows, mellon."  
  
Egla Ash grunted happily and smiled, shrugging.  
  
"It fills me with gladness to sing, Legolas Elvellon. So I sing to everything. Even my beautiful arrows."  
  
They were indeed beautiful arrows. He crafted no black Orc arrows any longer, but fair, slim, pale ones, resembling the Elvish arrows his friend bore.  
  
And now as his friend ran, miles behind, those fair Elvish arrows seemed a heavy burden to the one who bore them. The job they might be put to added an unwelcome weight on the heart of their bearer.  
  
  
  
The trees in southern Mirkwood felt differently than the ones in the northern part where the Elves dwelt. Egla Ash was not the only one that could tell the difference. The Orcs about him would glance nervously in all directions as if expecting an attack, their eyes wide with fear. Those not holding weapons would reach for them, fingers caressing the cold metal of the scimitars. And the webs. Egla Ash shuddered trying to imagine a spider large enough to create such vast, thick sticky threads as graced the trees here. He had gone with Legolas once to hunt spiders. But they had not come upon any. Legolas had explained about the Great Spiders, descendants of Ungoliant herself. They still haunted Mirkwood, despite the best efforts of the Elves. He had told the Orc of the time that a strange group of Dwarves had come traipsing through Mirkwood on their way to the Lonely Mountain to regain what a dragon had stolen from them and managed to stir the spiders to vigorous activity. Other strange creature dwelt here as well: black squirrels, giant moths of grey and black, large bats. All in all not a pleasant place. Night was worse. Then the dark was oppressive and all encompassing, no light of stars or moon penetrated here. And though the Orcs lived under the night sky, even they were uneasy in this darkness. And the sounds of shuffling in the undergrowth, of movement in the bushes brought terror. Even Lumbule was feeling ill at ease and out of sorts.  
  
"Are they sending an escort?" He growled, stumbling over unseen things under foot. "How can they expect us to arrive there in this cursed blackness?" His whip lashed at whatever Orc had the misfortune to be nearest.  
  
They had gone some distance waiting for the muted light of day that struggled to break through the mass of black, twisted branches that blocked the sky.  
  
"What was that?!" An Orc near Egla Ash gasped, jumping sideways in fear.  
  
"Nothing, sluggard! Keep moving! Curse you!"  
  
"Achas caun os ammen.  
  
Lamath al ned gul  
  
Tong delu nyw.  
  
Or peleth gur."  
  
[Fear clamors around us.  
  
Voices not of our knowledge  
  
Tighten a deadly noose  
  
Over fading hearts.]  
  
Through his own fear he smiled at the song. The Orcs' hearts were fading. What little bravery they may have possessed was fast fleeing as they neared the dark tower.  
  
"There is something out there." The Orc hissed again, its head whipping from side to side, terror written clearly in all its movements.  
  
"Its nothing. Keep moving!"  
  
But then something did appear. It was monstrous and horrible, its many legs long and covered with hair. Multiple luminescent eyes glared at them from an impossible height.  
  
Several of the Orcs screamed and ran into the trees, never to be seen again. The others huddled about, staring in fear and wonder at the Giant Spider. It contemplated them greedily. Then it began to speak in a thin hissing, creaking voice. It was calling to its kin. Noises above them caught their attention and several more of the spiders descended to the forest floor, hanging from thick ropes of thread.  
  
Another Orc was overcome by its terror and tried to flee, but one of the spiders pounced on it and began to tie it in thick sticky webbing. The others watched horrified, too afraid to move yet wanting to run.  
  
"Kill 'em now." One of the spiders hissed. "Kill 'em!"  
  
"Aye. They make fine eatin' when they are dead."  
  
"I prefer them alive and kickin'." Another hissed excitedly. "Them at that Tower don't feed us to well. I say we takes them now!"  
  
The spiders closed in on the remaining Orcs, their comrade, now firmly encased in a thick bundle of webs, was hanging from a tree branch thrashing about wildly.  
  
But just when Egla Ash thought that it would at least be better to die as a spider's dinner than have his soul die in becoming an Orc, a sharp voice called out of the gloom.  
  
"Those are not yours, Breganc. The Shriekers would not be happy if you devoured their prey."  
  
"We caughts them." The spiders hissed in displeasure. "They are ours!"  
  
"Nay, foul things. Be gone. Others follow that you may have."  
  
"Others?" The spiders looked at one another wondering if the Uruk- Hai was lying to them.  
  
"Yes. An Elf and a Ranger. Lie in wait for them. These are expected." He turned to face Lumbule. "You are a sluggard in coming. They are not happy. Where is it?"  
  
The others moved away from Egla Ash. The Uruk-Hai stared down at the Forsaken One. He gripped his face with strong fingers, forcing it up.  
  
"Blue eyes." He laughed releasing him. "Well, Blue Eyes. Soon you'll be an Orc just like the rest of them. Move on out!"  
  
The Orcs jumped forward and ran after the fleet Uruk-Hai. They could still hear the unfortunate Orc's cries as the spiders surrounded his dangling body.  
  
  
  
New fear lanced through Egla Ash as they neared the end of their torturous journey. But beneath it all was a glimmer of hope. An Elf and a Ranger were following.  
  
Legolas Elvellon, he thought, tears standing in his eyes. I knew you would come, my friend. And the Ranger. He knew that it must be the Dunadan. They were coming after him. But would they be in time? Evil creatures increased as they neared the tower, its foulness, choking the very air. There would be more Orcs, more Uruk-Hais. And the Shriekers. He felt a chill wave of horror flood him. He would not be able to withstand them.  
  
I don't want to become like them. I don't want to join with the darkness, he thought desperately. He pulled on his bonds that the Uruk-Hai now held, feeling his raw skin tear even more, dark blood stained the ground.  
  
The Uruk-Hai laughed and yanked on his bonds.  
  
"Come on, Blue Eyes. Your future awaits."  
  
Stumbling blindly Egla Ash approached Dol Guldur.  
  
  
  
"Hold, Estel."  
  
Legolas halted and stood very still, listening.  
  
"There are spiders ahead. I can hear them."  
  
Dunadan nodded, pulling his bow from his back and fitting it with an arrow. His heart was pounding after the long run and breathing here beneath these stifling trees was not easy. Legolas didn't seem as disturbed by the wood's oppression, but he had seen a flash of unease earlier. The Elves did not come this way and he knew that it was not easy for Thranduil's son to do so now. But determination drove them. They walked on without speaking, bows held at ready. At last Dunadan could also discern words in the air.  
  
"There are only two of them. And they bear sharp arrows."  
  
"Yes. But we will take them. We are all still hungry. So very hungry."  
  
Dunadan shuddered glancing at Legolas. The Elf met his eyes and smiled tightly. They moved on. The Ranger looked at the webs in the branches above and grimaced.  
  
By the time they heard the rustling in the trees overhead it was too late. A fat spider plopped down in front of them, fangs bared.  
  
Both loosed their arrows and both found their mark. The spider shrieked as two of its eyes were pierced. More spiders dropped from the trees. Legolas and Dunadan fired volleys of arrows into the monster, but there were too many. The Ranger drew his sword and hacked the legs from the nearest spider, feeling the black blood splatter his face and clothing. Legolas had pulled his white knives from the sheaths on his back and was cutting a swath through the spiders. They screamed and gibbered at one another. They had not expected this much resistance from two such scrawny beings. A spider bore down on the Ranger, its mouth open, hissing in anger. Dunadan swiped at it, backing away. The spider jumped with unexpected agility and forced the man to the ground, its jaws moving for his throat. He stabbed upward, feeling the gush of blood as the blade pierced the beast's stomach. He pulled himself from beneath it before it fell. He stood in time to see Legolas blind one of them with a vicious slash of his knives. When the spiders withdrew slightly, the Ranger and the Elf ran leaving the wounded spiders behind.  
  
As they ran Dunadan wiped a torn sleeve across his face, smearing the thick black blood. He cleaned his sword blade on a corner of his cloak. He noted with, some dismay, that neither he nor Legolas had many arrows left. He trailed behind the Elf, the oppression from the woods even heavier than before.  
  
The trees here were dark and twisted, striving against one another, snakelike branches twined in a death grip. The stench was one of rottenness, rising from the darkness beneath the gnarled, stained trunks.  
  
"Hurry, Estel." Legolas called, his own stride lengthening. "We must catch them soon or it will be too late."  
  
The Ranger pounded after him, panting, his body beginning to protest.  
  
But all too soon the trees thinned and a desolate landscape stretched away before them. They had reached Dol Guldur. 


	8. Part II Chapter 2.5

long under tree – Thanks for your reviews. I am always glad to hear from you. Egla Ash's name means Forsaken One. Eglan is Sindarin for Forsaken and Ash is Black Speech for One. So…Why haven't you read the prequel? Hmmm?  
  
Silence – Thank you for your review as well. You are absolutely right, but I am too far into this story to change him. I think that he might have been slightly more 'Orcish' in Hope While The Stars Shine. I don't know. We'll see what happens.  
  
Chani – Sorry this is coming so slowly. Just call me Sluggard.  
  
Shinigamio, Lithia, Soledad and Mememe –thank you for your reviews. Just hang in there. I am working on it. Any comments appreciated.  
  
Dol Guldur rose before them, a fortress of dark stone surrounded by the destruction of the forest. Great chasms had been gouged in the earth, the foul pits plunging deep beneath the tower. It soared above the trees, dark and fell, spurs of rock jutting like sharp teeth crowned its summit. Orcs could be seen on the ramps and stairway leading into the ground.  
  
The group with Egla Ash was moving toward the black iron gate, the entrance to the Tower of Dol Guldur.  
  
Dunadan stared at the fortress, fear in his blue eyes. Evil seemed to emanate from it. Fear drifted on the stifling air, reaching for their hearts. Even if the Orcs hadn't mentioned the Shriekers, Dunadan would have sensed their presence. He looked at the Elf prince. Despair was written on the fair features.  
  
"Legolas." He began gently. "We cannot hope to free him."  
  
"I have failed him." Legolas murmured. "I should have been faster." Defeat deadened his voice.  
  
Dunadan stared at him, his own heart aching with remorse. So it had come to this after all.  
  
Legolas knew that he must act now or they would be out of the reach of his bow. He drew out an arrow.  
  
"Revia nin celeg min  
  
Gliri ned i gwelu."  
  
[Fly my swift one  
  
Sing in the air.]  
  
As if sensing their presence Egla Ash turned toward them. He could see the two standing at the forest's edge. He knew that it was too late for them, not two alone against all the host of Dol Guldur. But they could free him another way. He growled and yanked the rope that bound him from the Uruk- Hai's hands. He tore the gag from his mouth.  
  
"Dag enni!" he yelled. "Dag enni, Legolas Elvellon!" [Slay me!]  
  
Legolas raised his bow, teeth gritted as he sighted down the smooth arrow shaft.  
  
"Namarie, mellon." He whispered, releasing the bowstring.  
  
  
  
*Very, very, very short. But I was feeling wicked. (evil laughter fills the air) I've got choir practice soon and it's been hectic today. And this is a good cliffhanger. Maybe tomorrow there will be more. Please R/R. 


	9. Part II Chapter 3

*Thank you all for reviewing.  
  
LOTR lover – Legolas never misses!  
  
Shinigamio – I really appreciate your review because I don't feel that I write fighting action very well.  
  
UV – Thank you for reading. I am glad that you appreciate the fun of cliffhangers!  
  
jastaelf – Glad that you are enjoying it.  
  
Lithia – Uh oh. Some things are worse than death.  
  
  
  
Legolas' arrow flew straight and true, but when Egla Ash's cry had filled the air the Uruk-Hai had thrust the blue- eyed Orc aside and the Orc that had stood behind him took the arrow in the heart.  
  
"No!" Legolas gasped, quickly fitting another arrow.  
  
Dunadan's arrow flew beside it. Two more Orcs fell, but the Uruk-Hai had pushed Egla Ash into the gate, a firm grip on the other's hair.  
  
"Get 'em!" He roared. The cry was soon taken up by many fell, harsh voices. Orcs streamed out of Dol Guldur toward the forest's edge.  
  
"Legolas! We must flee!" Dunadan urged, grabbing the Elf's sleeve. "Now!"  
  
Legolas loosed the last of his arrows, eyes hollow with disbelief. After all they had been through to have it end like this. The stared at the fortress. Egla Ash was gone, a captive of the Hill of Sorcery. Numbly he allowed the Ranger to pull him away. Together they fled into the trees.  
  
They ran down the dark path, their feet pounding in their haste. Behind them they could hear the cries and calls of the Orcs pursuing them. Dunadan had never run so hard in all his life. He had been in danger often, but this kind of peril had never touched him before. If they were caught and taken before the Nazgul – He stopped the thought immediately. He would not allow himself to be taken before Sauron's servants. His identity had been protected for too long for that to happen. Legolas was on his heels, though the Ranger knew that the Elf could easily outdistance him if he chose. He knew that grief was tearing through his friend, but they could not give in to that grief yet. The dark twisted trees flashed past, Dunadan's breath came in tight pants, but fear gave him the incentive he needed. But how long could they continue thus? Orcs were nearly tireless. They would be able to run a lot further than he could. He knew that he might have to turn to fight. And what chance did they stand then? There were too many pursuers. Yet on they ran. Soon they turned off the path, jumping over fallen rotten trunks and slipping on moss- covered ground. The Orcs were slowly closing in on them.  
  
"Legolas!" Dunadan gasped, feeling that he couldn't go on. "I cannot run much farther."  
  
Legolas glanced at him and the same vision he had seen the night the Rangers and Egla Ash had rescued him filled his eyes now. The man who ran at his side seemed different. His face wise and noble, a white star blazing on his brow. This man was no mere Ranger. He knew that. He would not fail Dunadan as he had failed Egla Ash.  
  
"I won't let them take you, Estel." He drew his knives. "Turn west, toward Lorien. It is closer than my father's kingdom. I will hold them as long as I can."  
  
"I cannot let you do that."  
  
"Please Estel. Destiny lies heavily upon you. Go. For the sake of us all. Go! Elenath sila erin le." [Stars shine on you.]  
  
Suddenly the Elven prince slowed and with a small smile turned his steps back in the direction that he had come.  
  
"Legolas!" Dunadan halted, breathing hard. Destiny did lie heavily upon him. He could not let himself be taken before Sauron, for that is what the Nazgul would do if they caught him. Aragorn son of Arathorn was indeed a prize. Some choices in life were almost too hard to bear. Legolas, son of Thranduil, had made such a choice earlier in choosing to follow a friend in need and it had gained them nothing but deeper pain at their failure to rescue the Orc. If he were to turn back now, what would it gain? What would be the price of his failure? Indecision tore at him. He stood, listening to the sound of the Orcs approaching. He heard them howl with victory as they came upon Mirkwood's prince. No. He could not leave Legolas to that fate. Not alone. He turned and ran back to join the Elf.  
  
I am sorry, Arwen, he thought as he hurried grimly into the battle, his sword slashing violently at the closest Orcs. Sometimes difficult decisions had to be made and other would have to live with the results. I am sorry.  
  
  
  
If anyone had been about they would have seen an old man hurrying through the forest toward the sound of fighting. He walked with a tall gnarled staff, his features masked behind a tall blue hat. A spill of grey beard tumbled over his chest. The feeling of anxiety that he had felt for days now intensified.  
  
Don't let me be too late to save him, he thought. We cannot lose him now.  
  
The scene that Gandalf stumbled upon was one that he would not forget soon. The two had fought well before they had been overwhelmed. At least ten Orcs lay dead, throats slashed, abdomens sliced open, limbs hewn off, their dark blood staining the ground. Aragorn hung limply in the arms of two Orcs, his face bloody from a blow to the head. The Elf was pinned against a tree by a large Orc who was slowly sliding his curved scimitar into the prince's body. Pain twisted his fair features, but he glared at his antagonist, spitting words at it in Sindarin.  
  
Suddenly Gandalf slammed the end his staff into the ground. With a roar, the forest was filled with a blinding light. The Orcs howled and screamed, covering their eyes.  
  
"Flee!" One of them yelled, fearing another assault from the unseen enemy. The Orcs turned and fled. The ones holding Aragorn dropped him abruptly and disappeared into the trees and the gloom. The large Orc growled, thrusting his sword hard into the Elf, then he too turned and ran, his eyes trying to see who had attacked them in such a way, wondering what he would tell his superiors at the dark tower when they returned empty handed.  
  
Gandalf hurried to Aragorn. He was stirring slightly, forcing himself to consciousness. The Istari could see the wounds on his arms and body now. None was life threatening and for this he was grateful. He will live, he thought with a relieved smile, gently touching the unshaven cheek. He will live. He turned to Legolas. The Elf had dropped to his knees, his hand over the wound below his chest. Blood poured between his fingers.  
  
"Hurry, Aragorn. We don't have much time. The Orcs may return in greater numbers. Come, Legolas needs your help."  
  
Aragorn pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly.  
  
"Gandalf?"  
  
"Yes, my friend. I am here. And just in time, too, it seems. Come, come. We must hurry."  
  
The Ranger wiped blood from his eyes and followed the Wizard to where Legolas was kneeling by the tree.  
  
"Help me get him up, Aragorn. Come, Prince Legolas. We must be going." He pulled the Elf gently to his feet, ignoring the gasp of pain that escaped the white lips. "Aragorn, do you have any athelas with you?"  
  
"Yes." He dug into the pouch slung about his chest. He chewed several pieces of it then placed it in Legolas' wound. The Elf blanched and cried out slightly.  
  
"Leave me, Estel." He whispered, leaning heavily on the two men. "I will only slow you down."  
  
"Nay, Legolas. I won't leave you. Soon we will be free of this wood and I can do more for you." Aragorn smiled encouragingly. "Come. You needn't fear. Gandalf has come to help us."  
  
Legolas turned blue eyes to the Wizard, staring at him in disbelief.  
  
"Mithrandir?" he murmured.  
  
The Istari smiled gently, his own blue eyes filled with compassion.  
  
"Yes, it is I, Thranduil's son. All will be well."  
  
Legolas looked away, his head drooping. All would not be well. Egla Ash was still imprisoned in Dol Guldur. His failure washed over him in a flood.  
  
"I couldn't save him." He whispered, tears burning in his eyes. "I was too slow."  
  
Gandalf glanced uneasily at Aragorn.  
  
"I will tell you later." The Ranger said quietly.  
  
Together the three of them traveled toward the edge of the forest.  
  
  
  
Again I apologize for the brevity. More is coming. 


	10. Part II Chapter 4

Well…Here it is. Give me feed back.  
  
Blue Dragoness – thank you for reviewing. I'm glad that you're enjoying this.  
  
long under tree – I can leave you hanging. That's what makes this fun. Hahahaha.  
  
Shinigamio - No. That wasn't the end of dear Egla Ash. Not exactly.  
  
Lithia – No. I didn't kill off poor Egla Ash. Not exactly.  
  
  
  
Aragorn and Gandalf were seated by a small fire, wreaths of fragrant smoke encircling them. A bandage was wrapped about the Ranger's brow. His wounds had been fairly light, though his body ached and weariness pounded through him.  
  
"He will be alright, won't he, Gandalf?" He asked quietly looking across the fire to where Legolas lay sleeping.  
  
"Yes. His wound was grievous, but he is healing. Elves are quite amazing in that way, you know. It was better that he took that wound than you." He turned his blue eyes on the Ranger. Usually they were bright, twinkling with mirth, but now they were hard and unforgiving as flint. "What were you thinking, Isildur's heir? You could have been killed."  
  
Aragorn turned to gaze at the fire.  
  
"I know." He murmured. Sometimes it would be simpler to be a mere Ranger.  
  
"Well." Gandalf prompted, leaning forward. "Are you going to tell me what you and Thranduil's son were doing so far south? Indeed, standing at the very gates of Dol Guldur."  
  
Aragorn allowed himself a small smile, knowing well how the answer would sound.  
  
"We were trying to save an Orc."  
  
"An Orc?! What foolishness is this?"  
  
The man shrugged, pain shooting up his arm as he did so.  
  
"He is Legolas' friend." He said simply, as if those four words could explain away the "foolishness" he'd exhibited in nearly revealing himself prematurely to Sauron.  
  
"An Orc, an Elf's friend? Come now, you will have to do better than that. An Orc and an Elf. Hmph!" He replaced the pipe between his lips once more.  
  
"It's a fairly long tale, Gandalf. Do you truly wish to hear it?"  
  
"I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Slowly Aragorn told him of Legolas' capture by the Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal the year before and how the unlikely friendship between him and the Orc named Egla Ash had begun. His voice was soft on the night air, his eyes drawn to the stars. It reminded him of the Orc's first song. He smiled in fond remembrance as he told of his own first encounter with Egla Ash in northwestern Mirkwood, how he and Daneth had found the Orc singing alone in the woods.  
  
"Orcs don't sing, Aragorn." Gandalf grunted, tapping the ash from his pipe into the fire. He drew more leaf from his pouch and repacked the pipe.  
  
Aragorn smiled, knowing that the Wizard was beginning to forgive him for his "foolishness".  
  
"I said the same thing when I met him. And he does indeed sing."  
  
"Probably as sweetly as the prince does, yes?"  
  
Aragorn laughed lightly.  
  
"Perhaps not as sweetly as that." He looked over at Legolas. "He will not take this well, Gandalf. He feels this failure too keenly."  
  
The Wizard's eyes traveled to the sleeping Elf. His eyes were not open, as Elves normally slept. They were closed, shutting out all around him.  
  
"Tell me the rest of it, Aragorn." He said, his voice subdued.  
  
His eyes still on Legolas, Isildur's heir told the rest of the tale as he knew it. But the end, Gandalf had a thoughtful look on his face.  
  
"That is a very strange story you have told me." He shook his head. "Aragorn, you're loyalty to those you call friends is truly amazing. But you must be more careful. You must not go traipsing to strongholds held by the Enemy. Even with an Elf. Do you realize what could have happened if Sauron discovered you now?"  
  
Aragorn sighed, dumping ash into the fire.  
  
"I know. But you also know that I have not chosen to live a life in safety. If I had I would still be tucked away in Rivendell." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "This is the life I have chosen. To live in anonymity until the time for revelation is at hand. Not to live in total seclusion, locked off from life. I would rather die while helping my friends than sitting by quietly and letting things happen around me that I could change." He looked back across the fire. "But I do wonder what will happen now."  
  
"You cannot be thinking of returning to Dol Guldur, can you?" Gandalf asked, his thick white brows knit.  
  
Aragorn shook his head.  
  
"No. I know that would be futile. Though I fear that is what Legolas will want to do."  
  
"Well, we will not let him. We will make him see the hopelessness of this. I have been in that foul tower before and barely escaped with my life. Isildur's heir or no, I doubt that you would survive. Or Thranduil's son either. No. You must leave the Orc to his fate whatever that may be. Though it is a pity. A singing Orc. I would like to have met him."  
  
The Ranger shifted, easing himself to lie flat on the ground, his eyes on the stars sparkling overhead.  
  
"My mind sees your wisdom, Gandalf. But my heart speaks otherwise."  
  
"All the same, I will not let you or Legolas return to Dol Guldur."  
  
Legolas lay still, his eyes closed, but he no longer slept. His wound still pained him, but it was healing. Silent tears slid over his cheeks. He knew what Mithrandir had said was the only possible course. Egla Ash was gone. If the inhabitants of Dol Guldur didn't slay him, he would be changed. He opened his eyes, staring at the beauty above him.  
  
Gar estel annan i elenath sila. [Have hope while the stars shine.]  
  
The stars were shining, but hope was gone.  
  
"Forgive me." He breathed. "Forgive me."  
  
  
  
Deep beneath Dol Guldur the Orcs took great delight in tormenting their blue-eyed brother. His cries echoed from the stone walls and ceilings. But still he sang. Like an Elf. And the torture would escalate until the songs were stifled and stilled….Lost forever.  
  
I Methed [The End]  
  
?  
  
Now I know what you're thinking. How could it end like that?! Well, maybe it didn't. Let me know if I should continue. Thank you all so much for your reviews. I enjoyed reading and rereading them. Elenath sila erin le! 


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